


Breakeven

by JuniperTrees



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Minewt, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperTrees/pseuds/JuniperTrees
Summary: Minho and Newt break up. Neither of them cope well.





	1. before the worst

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to the script!!! their break up songs are amazing

_ “Minho? I wanted to talk to you.” _

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

_ “I...I want to break up.” _

 

_ “...What?” _

 

_ “It’s just-I don’t want to do this anymore.” _

__  
_  
_ __ “What’s this?”

 

_ “Dating you!” _

 

_ “Can I ask why?” _

 

_ “It’s, I, I just-doing this is too much work. I don’t want to work so hard for something that’s not going anywhere.” _

__  
_  
_ __ “Are you serious? You do know that every relationship needs work?”

 

_ “Minho please. Don’t make this any harder.” _

 

_ “You’re breaking up with me.” _

 

_ “I know. It’s not your fault. I know that sounds stupid but it’s true.” _

 

_ “You’re really breaking up with me.” _

 

_ “Minho-” _

 

_ “Fine.” _

 

_ “I’m sorry.” _

 

* * *

When Minho wakes, the bed is cold and he’s sweating from the same dream he’s been having for the past week. The clock reads 4:37 AM, too early for him to be awake, too early for any of his post-breakup angst. He needs to get it out of his head and contemplates calling Newt, then remembers that they’re not a thing anymore and now he feels like shit. So, instead of lying around and moping, he decides to go for a run.

 

It’s still dark outside when he starts jogging, the urban streets not quiet, but more mellowed than what it will be when the city wakes. He hopes he can outrun his nightmares, forget them entirely, but he knows that’s impossible. Can he really call it a nightmare when it actually happened? He’s trying to forget but here he is again, thinking about it.

 

He still doesn’t know why Newt broke up with him. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend (at least, he doesn’t think he was). And Newt, Newt seemed happy. He had his own problems but they never stemmed from Minho. Just a few days before, they’d gone out and Newt had joked about getting married, saying they might as well when they were already living together. Minho had laughed, but he’d been over the moon. Maybe that had been it. Newt thought Minho wasn’t enthusiastic about getting married.

 

He glances down at his watch and sees the time, 5:26. He needs to get to work so he turns around and starts running back. 

 

When Newt had broken up with him, it was in every sense of the word. Clean, not necessarily even, but fast. In the thirty minutes after they had broken up, Newt had packed his things (a suitcase of clothes, a duffel bag full of his other belongings, and not so much as a goodbye as he shut the door and left).

 

Minho hadn’t cried, but he’d thought about it. He’d sat down instead and stared at the door after Newt had gone, thinking he might come back, telling Minho it was a joke, or what an idiot he’d been. 

 

In his dreams, Newt’s face always changes, but the words never do. Sometimes he’s crying, sometimes he’s sneering with disdain. Once, he even had someone else standing next to him, an arm around Newt’s waist where Minho’s should be (those are the worst nights).

 

And sometimes, his face stays as the one Minho saw that day: blank, almost emotionless, with the smallest trace of regret.

 

* * *

 

He’s greeted by Teresa when he walks through the office doors, thirty minutes earlier than usual. She scrunches her nose when he passes.

 

“You reek.” She says with no real contempt.

 

He probably does. He forgot to shower after his run, too preoccupied with other things. “Sorry.”

 

Teresa just gives him a look. “You okay? You’ve been looking tired all week.”

 

Minho waves his hand in affirmation, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He tries to ignore her incredulous look as he sits down. But curse her, Teresa has always been more observant (and nosy) than most. 

 

“Did something happen?”

 

Minho glances at her and contemplates telling her. He’s really got nothing to lose, maybe his boss will go easy on him if the news circulates. Besides, admitting to having a problem is the first step in recovery. Except, maybe this isn’t really for him to tell, it certainly doesn’t feel like something he should be saying. But if it’s not his place, then who’s is it? People will find out eventually, so there really isn’t any point in keeping it to himself.

 

Teresa is still staring, so he sighs and tells her.

 

“My boyfriend and I broke up.”

  
  
“Oh.” Her eyes widen just a fraction, from surprise or sympathy he can’t tell. Neither are very comforting so he tries to look away. “The one you brought to the Christmas party?”

 

Something settles in Minho’s throat and he swallows to push it down. He nods his yes because he can’t trust his voice not to crack if he opens his mouth. A sort of exhaustion settles over him when he was feeling fine just a few minutes ago.

 

“How long were you together?” She asks.

 

“Two years.” He says. Except it wasn’t so much two years as it was five. Maybe six. He met Newt freshman year of college, on a chilly day where neither of them knew where they were going but ended up together anyways. The thing is, Minho wouldn’t really have minded if Newt had broken up with him and still talked to him. At least then, they could’ve been friends again. But Newt hasn’t called, and all of Minho’s attempts have gone straight to voicemail. Now, there’s no chance of it, and it’s like they were never friends at all.

 

Teresa has stopped talking and Minho hates the pitying silences so he tries to fill it with meaningless, empty words. “We started dating after we graduated, our anniversary was a while ago.” Then he decides to shut up because now he’s starting to feel like shit again.

 

He doesn’t expect her to say anything, there’s never anything right to say in moments like these.

 

“I’m sorry.” She offers, a condolence, like a Birthday card sent weeks late with no money. 

 

He gives her a practiced “It’s okay.” Then he turns around and buries himself in his work so he won’t have to think about it.

 

* * *

 

He gets yelled at for zoning out at least three times before lunch rolls by and he all but dashes for the door. He’d just like to get away from the quiet buzz of the office but Teresa flags him down.

 

“You’re having lunch with me.” She demands with no room for refusal, ignoring all of Minho’s remonstrations as she pulls them into a nearby restaurant.

 

It’s a nice place. Oily food that definitely isn’t healthy, but it’s good all the same. They get free stuff sometimes because they know the head chef who seems to have a sixth sense for knowing when they’ll walk through the doors. And this place holds good memories, times where the office had hosted parties, group outings where everyone got drunk and had to hail cabs home. And on occasion, Minho had brought Newt here too. Enough that Frypan, the main chef, knows him, and has at times referred to them together.

 

As if on cue, Frypan walks out, wiping his hands on his apron as Minho and Teresa get settled down.

 

“Minho!” He calls, too enthusiastically to fit Minho’s pensive mood. “You haven’t been around lately. How’re you?”

 

Minho grunts a gruff ‘good’ and tries to sip his glass of water as slowly as he can. Even his evident disinterest in the conversation doesn’t prevent Frypan from continuing his questions.

 

“You haven’t brought Newt along lately.”

 

Teresa, bless her,  glances at him as if asking for approval before turning to answer so Minho won’t have to. “They broke up.”

 

Frypan’s eyes widen and Minho has to force himself not to wince. “It’s okay.” He says hastily, wanting to skip over the inevitable pity, the condolences. “It was a clean break.”

 

Teresa bites into her sandwich and looks up, mouth full. “You boke up wif ‘im?” 

 

He shakes his head. “He said he didn’t want to work for a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.” At this point, the prhase is word for word, embedded so deeply in his head he’d be hard pressed to forget. He mulls over those words again and again when he’s sleeping alone, staring up at the ceiling. 

 

Frypan ‘oohs’ quietly but doesn’t make any other comment, oddly silent for once.

 

Teresa takes another bite of her sandwich. “His loss.” She says nonchalantly, and Minho gives her a small, grateful smile.

 

Frypan claps him on the back as he moves to leave. “Don’t worry about paying today - on the house.”

 

‘No, really, it’s okay’. Minho tries to say in his haste, but the words come out garbled instead.

 

Frypan shakes his head, pushing Minho’s rising figure back into his seat. “For a friend.” He says, and disappears behind the swinging doors of the kitchen.  There is silence as Minho watches him go, stunned and numb, unsure of what to think of this sudden kindness. 

 

“You must be really out of it if you’re turning down free food.” Teresa says, eyes unblinking as Minho’s meets hers. He chooses not to say anything. “How long since your breakup?”

 

He chews slowly, returning to working on his food while trying to avoid the question. But Teresa is still waiting expectantly when he swallows. “A week.” He says quietly, at last.

 

“That was the only reason he gave you?”

 

Minho breaks eye contact, feeling like shit again, hoping that she’ll interpret his silence as a yes.

 

She sighs. “You have to find something to do Minho. Just thinking about him isn’t going to work. Stop pining after someone who’s already gone.” 

 

Minho knows that. He knews that he’s too invested, knows that Newt’s not coming back, not going to show up to his door with an apology on his lips. Minho knows all this because it’s obvious, but it still doesn’t stop him from hoping. 

 

Teresa must realize she’s said the obvious. “You got any hobbies? I know you like taking pictures, you brought that fancy camera last time.”

 

“Uh, yeah.” He blinks, surprised she remembered. 

 

“Start taking pictures then. Pick something up that’ll help you stop thinking about it.” 

 

She waits for his answer and in those few seconds, Minho decides. If Newt is working so hard to forget him, ignoring his calls, erasing his presence from the apartment they shared for so long, then Minho has to try to forget him too.

 

“Yeah. Okay.” He says. “I’ll try that.”

 

* * *

 

He finds his camera sitting on the coffee table, buried under papers and other things he never bothered to organize. It’s been untouched for a while, judging from the dust settled on the handle and the lens. Even then, the smooth of it feels familiar as he picks it up, pressing the on button.

 

It takes a minute for it to turn on and Minho looks around while he does, at the soft ambience of the room in the glow of the setting sun. How everything seems calm, a light blue tinging his sheets, the corners of the room. It’s a brief, tranquil sentiment and he brings up the camera to take a picture. 

 

There’s a quiet  _ click  _ as the shutter goes off and Minho leans back to look at it, at all the serenity it brings. Without thinking, he presses to see what other pictures he has and freezes.

 

The next image is a startling bright compared to the one before. The sun is glaring so half the picture is blocked, but the subject is still clear. Newt, with one of his rare smiles, sits in the grass, fidgeting with something in his hands. The sunlight wreaths him in an unearthly glow and Minho’s mouth goes dry.

 

Now, three months after the picture was taken, the smile seems mocking.

 

Almost painfully, he shuts the camera and sets it down, exhaling softly as it’s weight dips into the fabric of the mattress. There is silence as he thinks, unmoving for minutes on end.

 

A gravitating sadness weighs in his chest, not because he and Newt broke up, but because unfortunately, Minho realizes that somewhere along the way, Newt’s presence has settled in the room, the apartment they used to share. Newt has carved himself into the walls, left himself engraved in Minho’s heart, all the way to the bone and that kind of feeling isn’t something time can heal. Somewhere along the way, Minho’s world has started to revolve around him.

 

With a shaky breath, Minho sits down and prays for a miracle that forgetting Newt will come soon.

 


	2. dead man walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> newt's side after the breakup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is significantly shorter than the other chapter
> 
> but something is better than nothing!!!

Newt isn’t proud of it, but he breaks down ten minutes after he shuts the door of their apartment behind him. It's only Minho's now, when he thinks about it. He won't be returning, that's for sure. He tries not to look back and regrets it immediately when he cranes his neck backwards and sees nothing but an empty street and some stragglers. There are a few people on the street, none of them Minho.

 

Newt hadn’t been able to sleep last night, too occupied with which words to choose. He'd spent hours thinking about what reasons he had, what he would tell Minho. How it was his decision and that Minho should respect it. He’d been ready to argue, scream biting words if need be, but all of his planning had amounted to nothing.

 

Minho hadn’t even raised his voice, hadn’t even tried to fight it. He’d said ‘okay’ and sat in silence as Newt packed, staring at the floor with his hands folded. Newt had been close to crying, but he’d swallowed it down and forced himself to keep a steely resolve. 

 

Now he’s walking as fast he can, eyes burning, furiously trying to make it out of sight so he can break down somewhere alone. He doesn’t know where he’s going to go and he doesn’t have many options. He hadn’t thought of what he would do after the breakup, only what he’d do during it. Someone brushes his shoulder when he stops to take a breath, eyesight blurring.

 

He’d slammed the door behind him and told himself that he was glad it was over. No more worrying about his actions, no need to think so much, to mull over every word. He’d briefly felt triumphant, as if he'd done something right for once, but then he’d turned around and the feeling was gone.

 

Newt doesn’t have family in America. His sister and mother both live back in London, his father divorced his mother years ago and he hasn’t had contact since. He could buy a plane ticket but that would require a lot of premeditation and Newt isn’t in a state to plan a whole trip. After college, he’d only stayed in touch with a few friends. He remembers Alby and Winston and Ben, but Winston is sick and he hasn’t heard from Ben ever since his overdose. There’s only Alby and he hasn't been in touch for months.

 

He stops by the side of the road to hail a cab, wiping his face while holding his arm up. He doesn’t even know if Alby’s home, if he's living in the same home, right now.

 

A taxi pulls up along him and he tells him the address, stuttering on his words. 

 

He stops crying for a moment once he sits and looks out the window. It's dark out and the city lights have started to turn on. Now that he’s got some time to think, his mind drifts back to Minho. Minho, who hadn’t even looked that hurt when Newt said he'd wanted to break up. Maybe Minho had been waiting for it, had been hoping that Newt would suggest it so he wouldn't have to.

 

Now they've broken up. Newt wonders if the two years they spent together meant anything to him. They must have, because Newt remembers them both being happy. Minho had even talked about marriage when it became legal. Maybe though, if it had meant more to Minho, he would have come after Newt.

 

Newt would never say it out loud, but a part of him, per chance, would have gone back. Newt would have returned if Minho had ran after him and told him that he still wanted to try. Except Minho didn’t.

 

And now that he’s pulling further and further away from that apartment he lived in for so long, it’s starting to sink in that they’re really over. There is no Minho and Newt anymore.

 

There’s still some time before Newt arrives at Alby’s house, and with that small comfort, he lets himself cry.

 

* * *

 

When the taxi pulls up at Alby’s house, a little after sunset, Newt is relieved to see the lights are on. The taxi driver gives him a look when he doesn’t get out immediately, too hesitant. He knows that just showing up at Alby’s door is sudden. A lot can change in a few months, and Alby might not even take Newt in.

 

“You okay?” They ask, and Newt is startled back to the present.

 

“I-yeah. I just need a minute.” He chokes out. He’d cried to the entire ride and feels dried of tears, wrung out. It’s a good thing, he thinks, now he’ll cry less.

 

Thankfully, the driver doesn’t push. “Whatever you say, man.” They say, pulling out their phone and pressing some buttons. Newt’s focus returns to the front door, hoping that Alby won’t ask too many questions, that he will understand the reason for Newt’s presence at his door.

 

Another five minutes pass and the driver is starting to look agitated, so Newt takes a breath and moves to get out of the car. He fishes for a wad of bills in his bag and hands the money over.

 

He just stands for a minute as the taxi pulls away, nervous about walking up to Alby’s door.

 

With trepid steps, he knocks on the door.

 

There’s silence before Newt hears footsteps coming. He almost bolts from the apprehension, but his legs are rooted to the ground and the door is already opening.

 

Alby blinks at him. “Newt?”

 

Newt opens his mouth to speak but ends up gasping like a fish. 

 

“What happened?”

 

_ Too much.  _ He wants to say but the words get clogged in his throat. He broke up with Minho, he has nowhere to go, has no idea what to do. None of these things come out of his mouth. Instead, he lets out a dry sob as Alby ushers him inside.

 

Alby's been his best friend before they entered university. They know each other and he must understand that very few things can make Newt cry. He puts a reassuring hand on Newt’s shoulder as they walk inside. “What happened?” He asks again.

 

Finally, Newt is able to find his words. “Minho.” He says, and he thought he’d been done with crying, but here he is again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for more angst!!!

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry there will be a happy ending i promise


End file.
